


Warmth (Or, That Time Tom Mason Got Drunk, Much to the Consternation of His Alien Boyfriend)

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: Alcohol, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somebody finds some alcohol and the ~of age~ members of the group get drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth (Or, That Time Tom Mason Got Drunk, Much to the Consternation of His Alien Boyfriend)

            “Cochise!” Tom is delighted to see his very favorite alien.  He gets up on wobbly legs and walks to the other side of the fire to grab onto him.  “Just the man I wanted to see.”

            He practically trips on a small branch, but is happy to find that Cochise has caught him.  It’s nice.  Super nice.  Cochise is so strong and so capable of manhandling (Volmhandling?) him right back to his seat, which is extra convenient because he’s right next to his drink again.   He grabs at his beer and settles in next to Cochise.

            “Has something happened to Tom Mason?” Cochise voice drifts in above him. 

            Ben snorts.  “He’s just drunk.  Somebody ran into a liquor store and all of the _adults_ are partying.”

            “You’re still a minor,” Tom says, wagging his finger in his son’s general direction.   “You and Hal can’t get drunk.  And Matt super can’t get drunk.”

            “Matt is ten; I don’t think anyone was suggesting we should hand him a beer,” Ben says, “but plenty of people drink at sixteen, even when there were laws against it.”

            “Like you would have, math geek,” Hal says, nudging him.  “You’re too straight laced to break the law.”

            Ben shoves him back, but Tom is gratified that they’re playful and not combative. 

            “Are you doing something illegal?” Cochise asks, and there’s playfulness in his voice. 

            Tom swallows another gulp of beer.  “Nah,” he draws out the syllable.  His face feels warm and he only feels warmer when he looks up into Cochise’s.  It’s a nice face and he’s happy he gets to kiss it whenever he wants.  “Do you wanna try a beer?”  He waves his beer in Cochise’s face.

            “I do not believe that beer would affect me in a similar way.  It is exceptionally difficult to poison a Volm,” Cochise says, very sneakily supporting Tom. 

            “’snot actually poison,” Tom mumbles.

            “Well, technically,” Ben chimes in, “alcohol is a neurotoxin.”

            “Woah, really?”  Hal says. 

            “Yeah,” Ben says, “it works by dulling some of the neurotransmitters in the brain.  After a while the damage can become permanent.”

            Tom is about to point out how smart Ben is because that is _exactly_ what can happen, when Cochise starts talking instead.  “Is this going to permanently damage Tom Mason?”

            Hal laughs.  “Nah, he’s just going to have a headache in the morning.” 

            Cochise nods understandingly.  “I will monitor him.”

            Tom finishes his beer and gets up to grab another.  He sways on the way to the cooler, decides to grab two beers, and crashes on back into Cochise’s lap.  That’s way better than sitting next to him anyway. 

            “Do you want one?” Tom asks, shaking a beer at him. 

            “I think that one of us should remain clear headed,” Cochise says, “in case there’s an emergency.”

“I thought you couldn’t get drunk.”

            Cochise inclines his head.  “I suppose it won’t do any harm.” 

            Cochise takes the beer from him, opens it deftly, and swallows a gulp, while Tom looks up at him with a wide smile on his face.  His nose holes flare and the beer comes shooting out of them. 

            The beer sprays over Tom, mostly, but everyone hoots and laughs- even the sober kids are drunk on the happiness of the night.  Tom laughs loudest, wiping his face off.

            “I apologize, Tom Mason,” Cochise says, handing the beer back to him and combing some of his damp hair to the side.  “That is a most… unpleasant taste.” 

            Tom laughs again and takes a big gulp.  “It’s not for everyone, I get that.  And, hey, it means more for me.”

            “That is an excellent way to look at it,” Cochise says.

            Tom sighs happily as he sips on his beer, leaning back against Cochise.  He feels so warm and solid behind him, and Tom feels extra secure as Cochise’s arms come up to keep him steady. 

            The world is soft and hazy as Tom listens to everyone else talk.  All of his body is warm, but where one of Cochise’s fingers is rubbing little circles into his hipbone is warmest.  He’s more than comfortable sitting here, quiet for once.

            That is, until, someone says the word _mad_.  Tom doesn’t catch the context, or even who said it, but gosh, does he react to that word.  He almost lunges out of Cochise’s lap, except Cochise is still holding onto him. 

            “James Madison,” Tom starts wistfully, “now there was a guy.”

            Hal groans loudly from across the fire.  “Don’t let him get started on James Madison, especially not when he’s drunk.  It’s dangerous.”

            “I quite enjoy your father’s history lectures, Hal.”  Cochise pauses thoughtfully.  Tom loves it when Cochise pauses thoughtfully.  Tom pretty much just loves Cochise.  “And I don’t believe that he has ever told me about this James Madison.” 

            “He’s a pretty cool guy,” Ben says.

            “Don’t you encourage him, too!” Hal says, rubbing his temples.  “I’m surrounded by nerds, alien nerds, and more nerds.”

            “James Madison was the driving source behind our _constitution_ , Hal!” Tom says emphatically.  “Don’t you remember the feeling of being in the room where he did all of that research?”

            “I know that you two nerds were freaking out, while I was coolly unaffected,” Hal says.

            “You thought it was pretty cool, too,” Ben says. 

            “He is also,” Tom barrels through his sons’ conversation, heedless of their brewing argument, “the reason why we have records of the Constitutional Convention; he took detailed records of the whole thing!”

            “And that was an important event?” Cochise asks.

            Hal groans and hangs his head as Tom scrambles further into Cochise’s lap.  He drapes his arms around Cochise’s neck, more than ready to explain how important this is.  “It’s when they wrote the Constitution, Cochise.  _The Constitution_.”  Tom knows that, in the grand scheme of things, that all of the original copies of the Constitution have most likely been destroyed is a very small problem, but it’s still something that makes him sad if he thinks about it too much.  All that history lost.

            “The charter of your nation’s government,” Cochise says.

            Tom finishes his beer, nodding.  “Correct!  It’s such a marvelous document.”  He’s not entirely sure how much Cochise is understanding, anymore, because even he can tell how much he’s slurring his words.

            “I’ve committed the text of the document in question to memory,” Cochise says.

            “You have?” Tom asks quietly.

            “Yes, I have,” Cochise confirms. 

            That’s really hot, Tom decides.  He presses himself against Cochise.  “You’re excellent.  Wonderful.  Have I told you lately you’re my favorite Volm?  My favorite non-son person?”

            “You have.”  Cochise smiles at him and, like always, it makes him feel good.  “I am glad you approve of how I spend my free time.”

            “I like a lot of the things you do in your free time,” Tom murmurs, feeling a little warm under the collar.

            “Perhaps this is something we should discuss back in our bedroom,” Cochise says.

            “Yes, puh-leez,” Hal says, waving them away. 

            “Okay, okay,” Tom says, standing up unsteadily.  “Goodnight, boys.”

            “Goodnight, Dad,” they both chime back.

            “And no alcohol for either of you,” Tom says, pointing sternly at both of them.  He tries to pretend that his fatherly authority isn’t at all undermined by the fact that he just almost fell face first into the fire.  Thank goodness for those fast Volm reflexions. 

            “Perhaps I should carry you back to our room,” Cochise says. 

            Tom is about to protest when Cochise lifts him up bridal style.  He’s about to be embarrassed, but then, he realizes that there are some advantages to this: he can basically wrap himself around Cochise and not worry at all about falling.  It’s a pretty huge advantage.  His Cochise is great.

            “Don’t forget to lay him on his side,” Ben calls out.  “Just in case he gets alcohol poisoning.”

            “I’m not that drunk,” Tom assures Cochise.  “I’m not going to barf on you.”

            Cochise turns to nod at Ben.  “I will do as you instruct.  Goodnight Ben Mason, goodnight Hal Mason.”

            Without any more interruptions, Cochise carries him back to their bedroom.  On the way, Tom explains in drunk detail why he admires James Madison so much.  Or maybe about some of the finer points of the Constitution.  It’s kind of unclear.

            When they make it back to their quarters, Cochise sets him gently on the bed and begins pulling off his shoes and socks.  Once his feet are free, Cochise begins delicately removing his dirty jacket and the rest of his clothing.

            “Oooh, is that what we’re doing?” Tom asks, trying to reach for Cochise’s clothes.

            Cochise firmly pushes his hands away.  “I do not believe that would be appropriate.  You seem quite intoxicated.”

            Tom pouts at him.  “If you’re sure.”

            “I am,” Cochise says firmly.

            Cochise turns him onto his side, as instructed by Ben, and then presses his own body against Tom’s.  He pulls the blanket up over the both of them.

            Tom wonders if this is what being in a nest is like. 

            “How about,” Cochise murmurs low in his ear, “you tell me all about James Madison instead?”  Apparently, he hadn’t been talking about James Madison earlier.  Oops. 

            Tom haphazardly turns onto his other side, so he’s facing Cochise.  “Really?”

            “Yes, I’m quite interested in the subject.”

            Tom is more than ready, but he can’t quite get all of the words to fit together.  Everything is warm and Cochise and it’s distracting him from his lecture. 

“Tomorrow,” he barely manages to say.

Cochise laughs gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead.  “Whenever you want.”

Tom has wrapped himself around Cochise again, pressing his head against his chest.  He can feel everything getting heavy, but in the best way.

“It’s too bad that you can’t feel like this,” Tom murmurs, already half asleep.  “It’s like being up in the air while still feeling so solidly set on the ground.  Everything is warm and close and wonderful, for a while.”

“Alcohol doesn’t affect me, but I believe I understand how you feel,” Cochise strokes a finger down his spine gently.  “Like things are spinning wildly out of control, and yet it’s not concerning.”

“How’d you know?”

Tom can’t fight unconsciousness anymore, and slips off before he can hear Cochise’s response.

For his part, Cochise keeps his tight hold on his precious human.

Humans are, quite frankly, a much more formidable species than some give them credit for.  No other species that Cochise is aware of drinks neurotoxins for fun.  He is not sure that he approves the practice

Nevertheless, it’s what Tom Mason has elected to do tonight, and while Cochise isn’t sure about the exact signs of alcohol poisoning, he will be on the lookout for any concerning irregularities. 

Since no irregularities occur, it is a pleasurable way to spend the night.  Even if Tom Mason does have a strange and unpleasant odor lingering about him.

That beer substance is vile.

* * *

 

            Tom rolls over, burying his face in Cochise’s shoulder.  The light is just too much and Cochise’s shoulder has the benefit of being attached to rest of Cochise, who is comfortable and generally willing to put up with Tom snuggling close to him like this.

            Apparently not today, as Cochise immediately turns him onto his side.  Tom tries to resist at first, but he can’t beat superior Volm strength on a good day, nonetheless when his head feels like a wrecking ball is slamming through it.

            “Your child insisted that you must stay on your side, for safety,” Cochise says.  His voice, like every other noise, sounds like it’s being blasted in stereo.

            “Shhhh,” Tom says, and then immediately feels bad because Cochise won’t know why he’s being shushed.  “Sorry.  Humans are very sensitive to sound when they’re hungover.  Light, too.”

            “I will lower my voice then,” Cochise says quietly.

            “Also, since I’m hungover now, it means you don’t have to worry about me throwing up.  Just being cranky,” Tom says.

            “Are you certain this is not just a ploy?”

            Tom looks up at him, startled to find just how concerned Cochise looks.  “Yeah, I am.  I’ve been drunk plenty of times, Cochise, and if I was gonna get alcohol poisoning, I would have had it already.”

            Cochise takes a moment to ponder this, before inclining his head, concern melting into affection.  “I trust in you, Tom Mason.” 

            “I appreciate that, Cochise,” Tom says, immediately turning and burying his face right back into the crook of his neck.  “Thanks for getting me back here last night.”

            “Of course,” Cochise says.  He pulls the blankets back up over them both and then holds Tom tight; it’s nice to remember he can get the warm, safe feeling without the alcohol.  All he’s gotta do is be right here.  “I did not believe you could have made it back here by yourself.”

            “Probably not,” Tom says.  “I’d’ve been sleeping in the mud somewhere.”

            “You children would not have allowed that to happen; although I had an easier time carrying you than they would have,” Cochise says.

            “Good point,” Tom admits.  “They’re good kids.”

            “You have many reasons to be proud, and they are the most prominent and important.”

            Tom nods sleepily against Cochise’s skin.  A lot of last night is a big, Cochise colored blur, and he makes a mental note to ask Cochise about what happened.  For some reason his whole face feels sticky.

            “I think I’m going to go back to sleep,” Tom says softly.

            “I will remain here to keep you warm and to ensure that you are not sick,” Cochise says.

            Tom smiles, snuggles a little closer, and thinks that Cochise doesn’t even know the half of it.


End file.
